


Sweet Revenge

by Azulet



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Clothing, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drama, Epic Friendship, F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, Implied Relationships, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Missions, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Revenge, Shopping, Shorts (Clothing), Spies & Secret Agents, Suits, Team, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Fluff, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 10:52:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azulet/pseuds/Azulet
Summary: Gaby gets to choose the men's attire for their next mission... and gives Illya and Solo a taste of their own medicine.





	Sweet Revenge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diadema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diadema/gifts).



> diadema, if you don't like the title, or have a better one, please let me know and I'll change it!

“No,” said Napoleon, standing up, “Nope. No way. Never.”

He picked up his jacket from where it had been resting on the chair back, and started making his way to the door.

Gaby moved to follow him, but Illya held up a hand. “Let me talk to him.”

Gaby acquiesced, slumping back into her chair. Illya followed Napoleon outside, where he was leaning against the building, staring up at the sky.

Without looking at Illya, he spoke. “She can’t make me do that. It’s a crime against humanity.”

“It will look fine on you,” Illya told him. Solo looked at him, frowning. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re serious.”

Illya snorted, and continued “It is only fair. We choose her clothing for most missions, now she is choosing clothing for us.”

“It’s a monstrosity!” protested Solo, “It’s – it’s _orange_.”

Illya was nonplussed. “So?”

“ _I will not wear an orange suit_.”

Illya was getting tired of Solo’s objections. “Pull up your big-boy pants, Cowboy, and wear the suit.”

Glaring at him, Napoleon followed Illya back into the clothing store.

 

“Finally ready to accept your fate?” Gaby asked, smirking.

Illya nodded meekly, and Solo agreed as well, not without some grumbling. Gaby handed him the offending garment, ushering him towards the changing rooms, and instructed Illya to wait while she found an appropriate outfit.

After inspecting several potential possibilities, Gaby found one that she approved of. The discomfort was visible in Illya’s eyes when she showed him, but he took it without a fuss, and followed Napoleon’s footsteps to the men’s changing rooms.

A few moments later, the two agents returned.

“I was wrong,” Solo said, grinning broadly, “This suit is _totally_ worth it if Peril has to wear that.”

He was staring unabashedly at Illya, reveling in the other man’s discomfort. Illya looked like he wanted to kill the American, and whoever had made the clothes he was being forced to wear. His terrifying expression was slightly undermined by the ridiculously tiny blue swimming shorts and stripy beach towel he was modeling.

Gaby clapped her hands delightedly. “Perfect!” she said, hurrying over to examine the outfits on their prospective owners.

Napoleon grimaced as she circled him, and asked, rather desperately, “Does it _have_ to be orange?”

Gaby nodded decisively. “It has to be orange.” She dismissed him with a wave, and he rushed back to the changing rooms, clearly pleased to be out of the gaudy suit.

Illya flinched a little as Gaby brushed against his arm, and she glanced up at him. “Sorry,” she apologized, moving behind him to finish her inspection of his outfit.

“We might need to get you sunglasses,” she commented as she came back around to face him. “I can help with that,” said Napoleon, appearing next to her. From his pocket, he pulled a large pair of sunglasses.

“Why do I recognize those?” Gaby asked, staring at the sunglasses as Napoleon carefully perched them on Illya’s blond hair.

“They look like the ones he had in Rome,” Napoleon said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. Illya would have been ready for a day at the beach, if not for his sour expression.

“Lighten up, Peril,” Napoleon said, clapping him on the back, “You’ll do great as a background beach babe.”

Illya glowered even more, and muttered “Is not funny, Cowboy.”  

“You’re right, actually,” Napoleon agreed, glancing at the orange suit now draped over one of the chairs.

Gaby laughed. “It’s just for one mission,” she said, “You can burn the clothes afterwards.”

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Illya, he'll have to wear tiny beach shorts and pretend to be a normal person enjoying a day off. I based my description of Napoleon's suit off this:
> 
> (it's from Kingsman 2, which is quite a good movie).


End file.
